Pulling Their Strings
by MyHairHurts
Summary: John is hell bent on revenge and Cupid is bent on screwing things up for him. How do the Winchesters deal with a new woman in John's life and a baby? A mix of genres as far as I can tell. This is John, Dean and Sam. John still dies, so I'm listing the boys. Not a slash, sorry.
1. Prologue

**Making with the Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. If you're reading this, it is highly unlikely that you don't know what comes from the tv show, so I won't bore you. I read a couple of stories with John W. and OFC. I started thinking about it and how Cupid got involved with John and Mary. Which totally screwed him over with the dead wife and Azazel's children and archangel vessel gigs. And then I thought that I would like to play with his life and his sons. I touch on angst, family, humour etc... I've tried to keep my spellings and word choice American. I'm starting with sex. Because I happen to like sex, but it will be a number of chapters before you see it again.**

**Prologue**

Sunlight streams in through a crack in the thin motel room curtains. A smooth, supple, pale back with slim curves renews the pool of desire in his loins. Soft, dark hair spills over the top of the shoulders and against off-white pillows. Following the line of the feminine back to the curve arching back to a perfect ass slipping under a sheet calling to be held by his thumbs while his fingers grip her hips. He remembers hours ago holding her just there as he thrust into her. Her sweet smell seemed to settle into his chest and cause an ache down to his bones.

Before he thinks about it, his hand brushes away hair from her back. He caresses down the line of her spine, the arch of her lower back and cupping one ass cheek in his hand. He tells himself that she is jail bait. The same age as his middle son. He tries to be faithful to the memory of his wife. But then, he was only human. John had slept with five women in the past ten years and she is the first under thirty. Of course, she is barely legal drinking age.

Assuming Ruth hasn't lied to him about her age. He grimaces and he takes his hand off her ass. That thought is icy water on his loins.

"Hmmm..." a cascade of silky hair falls forward and sleepy, sultry eyes peek up from a pillow. She smells of sex and strawberry shampoo. Watching her movements and beautiful skin, something akin to need surges up in him and he wants to take her again. Revived arousal awakens as quickly as his previous thoughts had put the last fire out.

He witnesses confusion, then awareness and a blush creeps up. Watching her reactions, he realizes he should have taken a page out of Dean's book and left before she woke up. It is too hard to watch the sweep of emotions splashing across her face. Wondering if she is about to kick him out, but then, it is his motel room. That would explain why he didn't think to leave last night.

"I slept with a stranger." Her voice is silvery even while groggy. This woman does something to him that shouldn't be possible. How many rounds did they have last night? Shouldn't he be sated by now? He should be worried that she is about to reject the old man in bed with her but instead he can only find himself amused. She yanks up the sheet around her body sitting up.

"I don't even know your last name." She looks honestly upset with herself. His insecurities about her realizing she slept with a man more than twice her age, magically grind to halt hearing her actual insecurities spoken aloud.

He can't lay there and watch her berate herself. So, he snags her around her waist and pulls her close into a hug. He feels her tight naked body relax into his arms. He wants to keep her and protect her. But he remembers how he failed to protect his wife and tension returns. He thought when he came back from 'nam that the one positive was that he would be able to protect his family. His oldest wasn't even five before he had been proven wrong.

"You know, you're exactly the kind of man my Dad warned me about." She laughs into his shoulder. He smirks, thinking of the family she told him about last night. He should imagine she's right.

Her bare skin presses against his and John feels compelled to stroke her curves. He hears her breath hitch and feels the subtle wriggle of her hips. It is highly unlikely he will ever see her again and God, if he doesn't want to sink himself into every inch of her body. As though she were a pool he could immerse himself in. He should probably feel repentant, but this is one of the more forgivable decisions he has made in his lifetime.

John pulls her closer and slips a hand down the outside of her thigh and gently traces up her inner thigh with a calloused hand. He is encouraged by her mewl and the slight lift of hips towards his hand. He continues the stroke along the apex of her thigh nearing her folds. She makes a sound close to a hiccup and writhes under his hand. He doesn't relent to the urge to pull her underneath him and slip inside her. Instead, he draws out his time with her. Guiding his hand over the slight swell of her stomach. Luxuriating in the supple clear skin beneath his fingertips. He flattens his palm as he reaches her ribs and runs his hand between her breasts. Her chest moves, pushing towards his touch and she makes a short, low moan in her soft voice. The sound tingles right through him.

Ruth's body is open and responsive to him. Without shield or defense.

Her hands reach for his face and pull him down to her lips. He feels her bandaged right hand on his cheek and smiles. The late night introduction sitting in the waiting room. Her arguing with a cheating boyfriend and sister to leave her alone as she clutches her aching hand. He had a long gash on his back that needed stitching up. It wasn't painful, but he couldn't fix it himself. He watched the young woman struggling to control her emotions as she kept asking them to leave. He gathered from eavesdropping that she had caught them in bed together and fallen badly on it when she ran. Listening to them, he reached his breaking point and told the young man in no uncertain terms that it was high time that he left. She had thanked John and then started talking. Usually, he would ignore the inane chatter of a young woman. But her eyes and voice had drawn him in. Her animated chatter was entertaining. He felt himself relax in her presence, laughing at stories that most speakers would have fumbled and lost their audience.

Last night, he only meant to give her a ride home. But that had been defenestrated the moment she set those sultry eyes on him in the seat beside him. He hadn't been strong enough to resist those lips. She was vulnerable right then and he had probably taken advantage of her. But his feelings were so much like the second time he saw Mary. The first time they met each other. There had been mutual dislike. Something changed between Mary and John the next time. At some point during the night in emergency room waiting area, his feelings had turned... mushy. Not that John would ever admit that to anyone.

This is the wrong time to have anything more than a one night stand. The hunt for Yellow Eyes had picked up in the past three months. He even knew a name now. Azazel, the mythological fallen Angel. Only the Colt (or an Angelic sword, if the myth is true) could kill the yellow eyed demon. The Colt was a legend and therefore more more likely. John believes in Angels about as much as he believes in the tooth fairy. But he once didn't believe in demons, so he doesn't outright reject the possibility.

As he nestles himself between her legs and savors her; John suspects his days are numbered. For all he knows, she may be the last woman he ever sleeps with. All that she lacks in skill, she makes up for in responsiveness. Over the years, the number of women he had slept with add up. He had experienced everything from starfish to aggressive. But she moves and feels and sounds like a fantasy he hadn't allowed himself to have. Her silvery voice whimpers and moans in his ear. He hands cling to his back needy, as though she might fall a great height if she were to let go. And her body instinctively moves with him, matching his rhythm as though it were her own. He tries to wait for her, but when she loudly cries out his name, his speed picks up urgently and she's asks him for something wordlessly with every thrust. There was a time when John had too many words. Today he knows he has too few. He settles for expressing himself with his body, pouring his feelings into her.

In the moment when he stiffens, Ruth is pushed over the precipice simultaneously and he brings them both gently back down to reality. He pulls her with him as he rolls onto his back. Not wanting to pull out of her just yet but too heavy to rest his body over hers. Her shins press against the bed as she straddles him. Her head rests against his chest. His large warm hands settle possessively on her small waist. Their panting slows to heavy breathing.

"I have to go home." Ruth tells him and slowly disengages herself from him when her eyes stop on his hand. He hears the sharp intake of breath. Her eyes slash up to his face and an expression of horror is drawn on her pretty features.

John looks down at his hand and sees what she has only just now noticed. "I'm widowed," he explains.

She still looks a little shaky. "I should have looked. I should have thought of that. I'm-" she slams her mouth shut and climbs off the bed in a hurry. "Mind if I take a shower before I get out of your hair?" She asks as she rushes to pick up her clothes from the floor. He gets the sense that she doesn't believe him. And maybe that is for the best?

"I'll drive you home after I take one." He feels the ground breaking and falling away between them. His days are numbered and a part of him is looking for someone to hang onto. When what he should be doing is giving as much distance to the people around him as he can, for their sake. He knows he isn't getting out of the hunt for Azazel alive. She is too easy to fall into. He'll have to show more resistance to her in future. He lays in bed staring at the ceiling, forcing down the part of him that yearns to let go of the demon hunting and see where things go with this woman. But when he closes his eyes he sees Mary bleeding and burning above him. That is something that will always stay with him regardless of what mushy feelings step into his path.

When she comes out of the bathroom, he can tell by the look on her face that she won't be here when he finishes his shower. He couldn't say what possessed him to do it. But he takes the pen off the dresser in the motel room and scribbles his cell number on the pad of paper with his full name on it. He tears it off and hands it to her. They have reached the conclusion of their relationship. Still, she is nothing like the women he has slept with in the past. Like Mary, they had a wild streak about them. Ruth has strength in her optimism. The night she had her heart broken, she never once broke down and felt sorry for herself. She deferred to her self-deprecating humor and banal stories that she somehow entertained him with.

She avoids eye contact and pulls on the piece of paper, but he doesn't let go. He bends down a little to make eye contact with her. Sultry gray-blue eyes shyly meet his. "You're a harsh critic. You gonna give yourself a break?"

Ruth has a quiet smile and reaches around his waist for a hug. He returns the hug automatically and breathes her scent in. He feels as though he has been staring down a long dark tunnel, deaths cold fingers tickling the back of his neck for twenty years. And here is this dark beauty carving out solace for him in this sleazy motel on the edge of town. The moment is the very definition of bittersweet.

When he comes out of the shower, John finds a picture of her from a photo booth sitting by the phone. But not her phone number. As though he needed a photo? As though he could ever forget those eyes?

AN: Hideous? Hot? Contemptible? Just okay? OMG why did you even bother trying, hang your head in shame and sit on the naughty step MyHairHurts. Please let me know what I did right or wrong.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimage: Don't own shit and stuff, blah blah blah...

AN:*SPOILER* So, I watched this weeks episode and it was actually a little about John W and Mary and cupid (cute with Henry W. being all Harry Potter styles) and the writers minds were so one step ahead of mine. Which is just plain cool. I was inspired to edit this chapter and post it already. And suddenly, I'm experiencing an inferiority complex... People read the prologue... no opinions? Did you want me to continue or shut up already?  
ANN: Set Season 1 at the time they were supposed to be at the Asylum.

Chapter 1

Sam and Dean sit in the Impala outside a raunchy hotel in a rough neighborhood in Kansas City, Missouri. Most of the brick houses are either boarded up, have been knocked down into empty lots or have bars over the windows. They were supposed to be headed to Rockford where John sent them. But Sam won the argument this time around. Dean conceded to tracking down John's cell location that had at first been heading southeast from Omaha. It had stopped at this location, where they had found John's truck parked.

Just as they reach for the door handles, John's truck pulls out of the parking lot. "Crap," Dean mutters and follows at a distance.

After a few depressing blocks worth of urban decay, he stops in front of a three story red brick house. It has seen better days but is relatively well kept. A picnic bench has been dragged out front in the small space between the stone front steps and the sidewalk. A coffee can being reused as a sand filled cigarette receptacle sits on the worn table. The crumbling brick structure next door has an old sign: _No loitering or drinking here_. And: _Keep out_.

"We'll wait for him to come back out." Dean announces. Sam glares a bitchface at him and proceeds to get out of the car march down the street. "Sam!" Dean curses under his breath and locks Sam's door before hopping out. He locks his own door and gives chase.

John knocks on the door and steps back, taking in his surroundings. His head springs around in the other direction when he hears Sam's name called. His eyes narrow on his son while the front door opens.

"Dionne, would you stop forgetting-" the young woman at the door cuts off when she sees John at the door. Her hands come up protectively to her rounded belly and she yelps.

His eyes slide down to her abdomen. "I'm getting' too old for this shit." He grumbles. He already knew, but hearing about it isn't the same as seeing it for his own two eyes.

Her eyes narrow at him as Sam and Dean reach the front door steps. "That's what I expected." She flashed a fake smile and moved to close the door in his face. John Winchester is not a man to accept a door closed in his face. His hand shoots out and catches the door with a loud slam, causing her to jump with a small cry.

Sam and Dean observe their fathers anger. It lacks the more commonplace hostility they often see from him. They share a quick look to confirm that they both witnessed the same thing. They see a very pretty young woman, around Sam's age. She has long straight hair that is either black or dark enough brown that it's close to it. Gray-blue eyes frown from brush length eyelashes. She has a Madonna piercing and even, very pregnant, she has a slim body.

"I got a call from your sister with a word to the wise." He tilts his head to one side. "Isn't this the sort of thing _you_ should be calling me about?" It seems to suddenly occur to him that his two adult sons are watching this confrontation. "Boys, I'll deal with you later. Go back to the car." He barks orders without looking at them.

Sam breaks out a shit eating grin and folds his arms leaning back. "Oh no, I'm just fine right here." He sneers, thinking his Dad has their half-sister he has been hiding from them. Although, she must take more after her mother, because she doesn't look anything like John.

"You brought your kids with you?" She accuses him.

With a short grunt, John barges past her, catching her by the wrist towing her along behind him. Sam follows and after a brief hesitation, Dean follows. He finds the living room has three men sitting around a coffee table sharing a joint. Too immersed in their own conversation to even notice the drama happening nearby.

"Where's your space?" John glowers.

She looks as though she is about to refuse when a head pokes out of the kitchen. The girl draws in a breath and points at the stairs. "Third floor, first door."

Seconds later they are in a bachelor size apartment and with the three large men, the space is easily cramped. It is highly doubtful that the subletting is legal.

John looks around the space. "This isn't gonna work. What's the plan?"

"Dad, who is she?" Dean blurts out, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

He looks unsure how to answer, which is something of a blast of reality for Dean. He can't remember he saw his Dad unsure of himself.

"My ex-girlfriend, Ruth." He seems to decide. He wants his sons to treat her with respect and calling her a one night stand isn't likely conjure any such thing.

"You slept with her?" Dean almost smirks, but is a little thrown off by her age and the pregnant belly.

Sam stares open mouthed. He had always thought John was secretive because he had some dirty secrets. However, this isn't what he had in mind.

The girl paces, seemingly unaware of the chair pointedly left open for her. She has a withering look for him, but doesn't correct him. John is more grateful for her silence on the matter than he is willing to admit.

"I checked in on you months ago and you said you were doing good. You failed to mention a few things." He says sarcastically.

She puts her back against a wall by the one window. "Why do you assume it's yours?"

"Ruth, could you be serious here?" John asks calmly.

She grimaces. In just one night, yet again she had become predictable. "I'm handling it."

John feels queasy with the thought of this girl taking care of his own flesh and blood alone. She knows nothing of the supernatural, has no combat experience and doesn't look prepared to handle threats from the human world. He measures his reaction carefully. "How?"

She moves to fold her arms but finds a belly in her way. Looking peeved, she rests a hand on her hip. "Why are you asking all these questions? You've already raised your kids."

His face hardens. "Seems I haven't raised all of them just yet."

She becomes confrontational. "You march into my home, you push me around, you interrogate me and you question my ability to look after myself and my child. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Sam would be amused by this young woman defying his father, if she weren't suggesting denying his father access to his own child.

John stands up out of his seat, he moves forward, towering a burly 6'2" over her 5'8" petite frame. Dean remembers this intimidation tactic being used growing up and while it seemed perfectly natural then, it feels inherently wrong now.

"Er... Dad?" From the look on her face, she has already looked up the relevant laws. Sam grimaces when John glares at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

John is loath to listen right now, but something about the urgency in Sam's face tells him to do as he's asked. He goes out to the hallway leaving Dean and Ruth watching after them.

"Legally speaking, she's right. As long as she doesn't acknowledge you by putting you on the birth certificate... legally speaking, that's her kid, not yours."

His father stares at him. "Fuck."

For the first time, Sam can completely empathize with his father's position. He would be equally upset if it was him. "Did you even get to know her at all before-"

John cuts him off with a look. He exhales and they return to Ruth's undersized rental.

"I don't wanna fight with you. Can you tell me what kind of man do you take me for?" He keeps his face impassive. Politely waiting for her response.

Dean isn't sure what to make of the change he sees. He wonders what Sam told their old man in the hallway.

"A good one." She finally answers with a frown.

"Well, that's a start. Do you have any reason why you think you should deny your child their father?" He watches her with an intense expression.

They watch a full range of emotions cross her face. Her inner turmoil self-evident and poorly guarded. "You carry concealed knives and a gun. I called in a favor. You have a criminal record that includes defiling graves, impersonating cops and fraud. And you still wear the wedding ring of a woman you claim has passed away. I wracked my mind trying to figure you out, based on the clues available." Her faces creases in anguish but returns to a solemn earnestness. "I can't figure out what you are mixed up in, but I know a man bent on revenge when I see it. You're Captain Ahab, hunting down Moby Dick and I'm just a ship on the horizon." She unleashes cool gray-blue eyes on him. "I'm not even going to try to make you see reason. But as long as you stay on this path, you're poison."

Her words are perceptive and feel like a demolition team crashing through a brick wall. The room is eerily quiet. John knows that his sons know as well as he does, that she has him pegged. It hurts.

Ruth softens seeing the shock replaced by pain on his face. She steps forward and puts the palm of her hand up against his cheek with wistful eyes. "I know you don't approve of my family. For all their faults, they mean well and they're good people. If I land on the street, one phone call and Eli will come get us. There's a lot to like about you and it's gonna sound funny coming from me of all people, but you're lost. I can provide her with unconditional love, affection, patience, compassion, loyalty and wisdom. I don't want her dragged into whatever you got going on."

Sam and Dean can see they are intruding on an intimate moment, but it is too late to make a polite escape. They watch John and Ruth, eyes locked, silently conversing. Neither have seen this side of John before. Vulnerable. Dean wants to be angry with her, but hearing her words. He can't be.

"It's a girl?" John finally asks.

She smiles sweetly up at him. "Yeah, I got that at the last ultrasound. Due in February."

John could appreciate that she was looking out for her child. Their eyes stay on each other. "I wish you were wrong." He finally speaks and his sons look at him with shock.

"You're just gonna walk out on the kid?" Dean accuses, his hands clench into fists.

"Boys, wait outside." John orders. He finally drags his eyes from her and levels a look at them. Sam looks empathetic as he leaves the room. He understands better than he wants to. Dean is a walking storm.

Out front of the building, they feel conspicuous in the dominantly black and latino neighborhood. But Dean refuses to wait with the Impala. He's not chancing John purposely losing them. They take seats on the picnic bench, trying not look like they feel as out of place as they feel. They notice for the first time bars on the windows and the emptiness of the neighborhood. As though everyone were hiding from a monster inside their homes. One that people try to ignore.

"Dean, he can't make her do anything. And she's kinda-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he skulks.

Sam sighs heavily, knowing there is no point in forcing his brother to talk about it.

After an inordinately long wait, the front door opens and John emerges with Ruth at his side. They appear semi-platonic and reconciled.

"-one of those numbers are good. Shouldn't take long to get you a new place."

They watch their father and the strange woman hug. He says something in her ear and she looks over at Sam and Dean with a frown. John pulls back and she shakes her head.

"Would you just trust me on this?" John's voice drips with irritation.

"Fine, fine. Just, do me a favor and don't get you or those guys killed. Your family is sparse." She says half joking but her eyes are serious. She gives a simple nod and goes back inside, closing the door behind her.

John's attention returns to the boys. He looks angry. "Follow me back to my hotel... now." He stalks around and gets into his truck, while the boys walk fast back to the Impala.

To Dean's annoyance, he feels like a kid preparing to be rebuked. If anything, his father is the one that has a lot to answer to. "Dad wouldn't have told us. He would have covered this up." He expresses his thoughts aloud as he starts up the engine.

Sam has nothing to say that Dean will want to hear. So he keeps quiet.

John is already walking into his room as they walk down the hallway to his room.

"You realize you've made her a part of this family now." Dean says resolutely before Sam can close door behind them.

John suddenly feels very old and tired. He sits back in the one armchair and looks up at his boys. He is proud of them. John wanted to do better by them. But he wanted to do right by Mary too. Mary was so different from Ruth. But both women see right through him. For all of the secretiveness and distance he put between himself and both women (because in truth, there was a lot he kept from Mary before she died) saw through all of his bullshit. As much as Sam called him out, he had never shaken his foundations. Ruth had him second guessing hunting down Azazel for the first time.

John had never questioned the necessity of hunting down the demon before. But for one split second, it felt as though Mary's ghost was in that room talking to him through Ruth. Telling him to stand down. But Azazel isn't done with Sam. His son is still in danger and Mary hasn't been avenged. No matter how right Ruth's words are, he can't let it go. He can't stand by and wait to see what happens to Sam when there is a chance he can stop Azazel in his tracks. And the bastard needs to pay for Mary's death. For the mayhem he brought down on John's family. On his plans.

Lost in his thoughts, he sees his sons are waiting for him to say something. He decides to tell them what he knows about her. She's something of a step-mother and they are grown adults. If something happens to him (which has been growing more likely nearly by the day), he's going to want them to step up and take care of her and his coming daughter as best they can. Her story might not be his to tell, but he doubts she'll give them the information they need voluntarily.

"I met her in the ER. She was there with her half-sister and boyfriend. She came home from a trip out of town and caught them in bed together. She fell and they brought her in. They wouldn't leave her alone and he started getting rough with her. I convinced him and her sister to leave."

Sam and Dean sit on the end of the bed. Traffic on the street outside drifts inside. This becomes something of an impromptu story time.

John slumps further into his seat and rests his head back against the chair. "She ran away from an fundamentalist christian home when she was sixteen with her sister. They've stayed in contact by letter with one of their mothers. I don't want her going home."

He lets the boys have a moment to let that settle in. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to relax. A new baby. When Mary found out she was pregnant with Dean and Sam, she was so happy when she told him. Neither Kate or Ruth told him and he doubts either were particularly happy when they found out. He wishes he could go back to the happily married man whose wife thought being pregnant with his child was something to be celebrated. Has he become a curse on women?

"She's already lived through one adventure." Dean stands and rubs the back of his neck. "She ever mention what would happen if her family find her?"

John opens his eyes and looks at his oldest child. The kids already looking out for her. Always the protector. He has taught him well. "If her Dad has any say in it? He'll beat the living crap out of her."

John pulls himself to his feet and addresses his sons. "Anything happens to me, watch out for them. I know I've made a mess of things, but they need someone in their corner." He feels a pang of guilt for not saying anything about Adam now. But Kate isn't struggling. Adam was better fed and dressed than Sam and Dean were growing up. But Ruth had gone from dominating father to husband. Then a short time of independence before she had a boyfriend who acted as bread winner. Her independence is still wobbly.

"You think?" Dean asks sarcastically. "Is there anything else you need to tell us? You forget anything?"

"I don't like your tone." He responds darkly.

He is met with a near imperceptible nod. Silent, Dean stalks out of John's hotel room, Sam on his tail. Today, for the first time, it is Dean and not Sam who is butting heads with John.

As though Dean didn't have his hands full watching out for Sam. He is already feeling more responsibilities settle on his shoulder. He didn't knock any chicks up and suddenly he's feeling responsible for this woman and child. He badly wants to be angry at her. But he doesn't find fault with her. She didn't even call his Dad. She didn't ask anyone to look after her and her child. In fact, she has already deemed John unfit as a father. And looking at his Dad from her perspective, his worldview shifts under his feet and he sees the man in a whole new light. Yes, John is still the hero that saves people from the creatures that go bump in the night. But he was supposed to be their Dad first. He shouldn't expect Dean to be a substitute parent.

He still loves his brother. He will always look out for Sam. And he will love his sister when he meets her. And it goes without saying that he'll watch out for his baby sister. A part of him is surprisingly happy at the prospect. But the things that Ruth said to his father struck a note with him. Imagining his baby sister growing up the way he did, he reflexively recoils from the idea. It is not that he feels he had a bad childhood. But the sheer negligence of leaving a child alone for days at a time in a motel room makes him sick to his stomach. If Ruth did something like that to the baby when she was bigger, he would be ready to crucify her. But when John did it to him, he hero worshiped him.

Dean finds himself angry, confused and overwhelmed.

Sam has to move fast to keep up with Dean. He starts up the engine and tears out of the parking lot, tires squealing on asphalt.

"Whoa, Dean! Where are we going?" Sam holds onto the window sill and dashboard to keep from sliding across his seat into Dean.

"Rockford." He grunts.

"So we're going to do the job then." Sam should have known he would want to throw himself into hunting.

They head out of town, AC/DC blasting. Newer cars have louder sound systems, but Sam wonders if the Impala's can take this volume sustained for much longer.

They cross state lines and make one rest stop. Dean doesn't say anything more than grunts. Mostly he just nods or shakes his head or flat out ignores Sam. Even when baited, Dean ignores him.

Instead of asking Dean if he wants to talk about it, when he can't take the silence any longer, he says what it is he really wants to say. "I need to talk about it."

"It's okay Samantha. You were my baby sister first. You know you won't lose that special place in my heart." Dean smirks, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Sam instantly produces a bitch face directed sternly at Dean. At least it is a step up from grunts and being ignored. Shame it has to be at his expense.

"Dean, come on. Be serious."

"I am serious. Now you really will have someone to do each other's hair with. Just think of all the braids you'll do. When she gets big enough you can have pillow fights and talk about boys. I'm happy for you."

Sam grits his teeth and looks away.

Night has fallen and they're going to need to pull over and get a room for the night soon. Or decide to drive straight through. The dash lights glow up on their faces. Headlights from passing cars sweep over Dean's face as he watches for his reaction. He was unprepared for his older brother's anger.

He suddenly feels so Goddamn tired and he knows this conversation with Sam is unavoidable. He glances over at Sam. His younger brother is a man. A 6'4", full grown man, capable of taking care of himself. He had realized when he saw him the first time in four years at Stanford. But he needs to remind himself of this fact sometimes. Last time Dean was made responsible for a person, Sam was a newborn and Dean was four years old. He can't even remember what it is like to not have someone to look out for. He just remembers the moment when he became responsible. This time around, Sam is a full grown man and he isn't any less responsible for their unborn sister and her mother than he is.

That thought is put on hold when he sees a motel up ahead and slows down to pull over. Sam is still waiting for Dean to talk when he sees where Dean is taking them. It suggests that they are going to talk about this. And that's a relief.

Dean goes to the front desk while Sam pulls out their bags from the trunk. He holds the bags over his shoulders and looks around their surroundings. The motel advertises color televisions on the sign along with basic cable. Most motels have pay per view by now, but they usually don't use it to save a little money. The sign is lit up with a fifties style arrow rounding it. A lot of the hardware hasn't been updated since the late fifties to early sixties. Weeds are growing up between the concrete bars in the gravel parking lot and the walkway lining the motel rooms.

He sees Dean walk out of the office towards a door and crosses the lot to the door he's headed to. The fixtures in the room are from the sixties but the bedding and furniture have been upgraded since then. Upgraded may be too optimistic. Updated would be more accurate. It smells like cigarettes but is otherwise clean.

While the older man goes straight to the bathroom, the twenty-two year old stows their bags away and takes off his jacket. He stands on the spot unsure what to do next. He doesn't want to engross himself in researching the next job until they've talked about this. Dean is dragging this out painfully long and it sets Sam's teeth on edge. The muscles in his jaw are starting to ache from clenching his mouth shut. So, he leaves his laptop in its bag and stands there waiting.

The Spanish Inquisition have got nothing on Dean's little brother's bitchface when he finishes taking a piss, that much he is convinced of. He almost gulps being met by him outside of the bathroom. Almost.

"Dude, gimme some space." He pushes past him and hangs his jacket on the back of a chair.

"What was that blow up about back there? Usually, I'd appreciate you questioning Dad. But right now he could do with our support."

"I've been supportive of him since the day Mom died!" Dean booms so loudly, Sam is taken aback. "He royally fucked this up. He can't be in contact with us? Fully grown men, trained and proven capable of defending ourselves. He can't contact us because he's hunting yellow eyes?" The pain in Dean's voice leaks slightly. "Dad's made perfect Winchester bait. We come with enough baggage and it's not gonna take it easy on her and that baby. We just left the most vulnerable member of this family with some girl who can't scrape together rent."

He remembers vulnerable young Sam in bed with the shtriga feeding on him.

With one order, Dean had been ordered to leave Ruth and his baby sister. And John's next order had been to watch out for them. Well which is it? He doesn't have the first clue how to watch out for someone that isn't living and working with him.

"Dean, calm down. They are Dad's responsibility. He asked us to step up if, and let me emphasize that word if for you again, if something happens to him... then he wants us to watch out for her." Sam hits Dean with his most sympathetic look. His eyebrows drawn together and raised in the middle of his forehead.

Dean literally growls and looks incredulously at Sam. "Family is everything. Family isn't just Dad's responsibility."

He attempts to focus on finding a solution. "Okay, so what can we do? You heard her. She doesn't want to go anywhere with us. Ruth wants to keep her and the baby out of our lives."

"It's his kid! It's not her decision to make on her own."

"Yes, it is. He's the father but he doesn't have any rights."

"Father's automatically have a right to their kid." Dean snorts.

"Married men get presumed paternity rights. Unmarried fathers that want their kids, cross their fingers and hope the mother names him. If Dad can prove that they were together around the time of conception, he can take her to court and file for a paternity test. He's only got outstanding warrants, it shouldn't be a big deal." Sam explains cynically.

His older brother is stunned into a brief silence. "How do you prove short relationships or one night stands?"

Sam smiles wanly, "There are options, but it's all rocky ground for fathers. Based on the information available to her, Ruth is being a good mother. Dad needs to build a relationship based on trust with her. But he can't do that while he's hunting down yellow eyes. Meanwhile, my guess is Dad's going to try to help her with her cash flow issues and try to give her wide berth. Try and lead trouble away from her."

As he listens, it occurs to him that it is possible that he could have a kid out there that he knows nothing about. Family in the same position Ruth is. He shoves the thought aside. He isn't going to track that many women on a small possibility.

"So, that's it? That's his big plan?"

"You got a better idea?" Sam cocks his head with amusement.

Dean finds himself annoyed by Sam's patronizing tone. "Yeah, we give her a dose of reality. Show her what's out there and she'll have to listen to us then."

"You wanna bring a pregnant woman on a hunt with us?" Sam asks sardonically. "Who do you want to feed her to? Vengeful spirit, demon or Werewolf? And do you have any preference for which way Dad is going to kill you whether she makes it out alive or not when he finds out?" Sam bats his eyes with amusement. "You want me to convince him not to skin you alive first?" He receives a dirty look for his efforts.

"Well, I can't leave her like that."

Sam takes pity on the restless man before him. "I'll get her number from Dad and see if I can coax her to try a few harmless things for us."

"Like what?"

"See if she'll keep holy water in her place. She grew up Mormon. You happen to notice she had a bug out bag by her door. She was brought up to have three months of food and water on hand. We could bring her water that's been blessed."

Dean stopped to consider this possibility. "What good is to her if she doesn't know about it?"

Sam shakes his head. "It's a considerate move on our part, she might appreciate it. Plus she has three months of holy water on hand. And if we have a heads up, we can try to get ahead."

He sees a sly grin. "Think we could put holy water in super soakers?"

Sam laughs.

**An: Do me a favor, review. Should I continue this story?**


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